Apathy
by Queen Egg 79
Summary: One forgotten word seems to occupy more of her thoughts than the looming danger a mass outbreak and the end of civilisation can bring. Rated M to be safe, is not a CxW
1. Chapter 1

The world was fucked.

Yes, it was harsh of her to think that, but she was starting to tire.

The world ended a few years ago, or had it finally reached a decade? She did not care; the days had merged into weeks, then months and then she gave up counting. What was the point when it felt like a life time anyway?

Some time ago she lost her group... Well, the group wasn't hers, but she was apart of it until everything turned sour. They were surrounded by BOWs and had no other choice than to flee. She had hoped everyone had survived, but at the same time she didn't. They were all destined to die anyway, and she was starting to be desensitised by the thought of it. Maybe she just didn't care about anyone any more? There was a word for that, a word that was also used when describing the man that was probably the cause of all of this...

It didn't matter any more. Once the humans died out, so too would language. The BOWs - or Beasts- would be the next to go, with their only source of food gone, then nature will have its way with the world. Living organisms would evolve from their "primitive" ancestors once more and within a few billion years, nothing will remember the mass genocide that occurred. That is, if the sun didn't engulf the Earth by then.

She had stumbled into a town. It looked deserted, though she knew not to judge a book by its cover. Around every and any corner a Beast could be waiting, wishing only to eat her. As much as she didn't care- that word still on the tip of her tongue- being eaten alive was the most horrifying way to die.

The Beasts would start at your abdomen, pulling out the long sausages that are the intestines first, then the stomach was next to go. The ribs would then be cracked open skilfully to expose the "good stuff". The Beasts would eat the lungs next, then the heart would be gone while you sat with horror, watching as the rhythm of the red organ ceased. Of course, escape was not possible. They knew to break limbs to prevent their prey from escaping. She did not know how the beasts evolved to devour their prey in such a way, nor did she want to know. The end result was nauseating enough.

As she walked cautiously in the town, she reached a church. She has seen many other churches in her travels, but something about this one made her want to enter. The building seemed safe, there were no marks of obvious forced entry. Opening the old, ornate doors to the equally ornate church, she was surprised at how dusty it was. The sun was shining through the stained glass windows and seemingly illuminated every speck of dust in the room. Carefully closing the door behind her, she could not help but admire the icons that decorated the room. A long red carpet down the middle separated the room into two sides, each having multiple rows of pews leading up to the altar.

Checking the building once more for any Beasts, she sat at one of the pews closest to the front. Bowing her head, she tried to find the words for a prayer, though all the words seemed to have left her. She had not spoken in such a long time, she doubted if her vocal chords still worked. Opening her mouth, she willed herself to say something, anything.

"Hi." She blinked. It had just occurred to her that she had forgotten the sound of her own voice. It did sound raspy, but lack of use would do that. At least she thought it would. She was wondering if anyone was listening. Was there a God? Maybe He- or She- was... The word was still lost to her... Maybe God didn't care about her or about anyone on Earth. After all, the end was pretty much here. Was this the Apocalypse?

"I haven't done this in... what feels like a lifetime." She sighed. "Chris, I'm so tired. I don't even know if you're dead or not."

A small, sad laugh escaped her lips. She felt tears on her face, but she was a... ap... - The word was starting to return to her mind, but not fast enough- she didn't care about them.

"I... I just don't know what to do any more. I don't want to run, I can't fight... I'm so alone."

She was quietly sobbing now, her hoarse whispers silenced.

"He is dead. I killed him myself, Dear Heart." She almost jumped. That deep voice was certainly not her own, though she did recognise it. She felt a hand rest patronisingly on her head, causing her to look at its owner. Her eyes met with her own blue ones; her hollow face and sunken eyes reflecting off the owner's dark glasses. He was sitting in the pew in front of her, dressed in black formal wear as a harbinger of death would. His hair was perfectly blonde and gelled back in its signature fashion. His gloved had that rested on her head moved down to the side of her face, where it wiped her tears away.

"Leave, don't taint the sanctity of this place with your presence." She was suddenly more aware of her own appearance now. Her auburn hair had grown long and unruly. Her clothes were worn thin, her shoes were tattered and her body was looking malnourished. She didn't even want to think about the smell she was probably producing.

"How very unchristian of you." He chuckled. His hand had now moved down to her neck, resting just on her jugular vein. She felt her pulse quicken in response.

"You're one to talk." Her response caused him to smirk. Either that or the fear he could probably feel through her pulse. In a blink of an eye, his hand tightened around her neck and she had been thrown into the altar. She struggled to get up. This was it. The end was here. She felt oddly calm and... nothingness. In her thoughts, she condemned that elusive word that she still couldn't remember.

"Ahh... So much like your dear brother." He approached her. Slow steps echoed within the church. "I wonder if you will make the same sounds as he did when I finally took his life."

"Stop. Not in here." She panted, now leaning heavily against the ruined altar. "It isn't right to fight in a church."

He paused. "Very well, I shall humour you. Think of this as your one last mercy." He changed directions and walked over to the grand doors of the church and held one open for her.

The walk- or limp- down the aisle felt like the green mile to her. When she reached where the harbinger of death stood, she turned and faced the damaged altar for one last prayer- a sign of the cross. Content, she walked through the doors, suddenly feeling empty, though annoyance crept through, courtesy of that damned forgotten word. She heard the doors close behind her and footsteps shadow her. Once she walked down the stairs from the entrance, she turned around to see him standing casually. In a different time, she would have thought of him as handsome, perhaps still did, but none of that mattered right now.

She took a step back and took a defensive stance, the same stance her brother taught her so long ago. Such a long time that she questioned if he actually ever existed. He swung his fist, she dodged right. He swung again, she jumped backwards, out of reach. He smirked, red eyes flashing behind dark lenses. More swings, which she managed to dodge. One left an opening by his side, she took her chances and went for the strike. Her fist never made contact with his person, his gloved hand had securely caught her by the wrist.

"Big mistake." He punched her once in the abdomen with his free fist- winding her-, before spinning and flipping her in such a way that she landed stomach first on the ground, her right arm still held by him. She felt a foot on her back, hindering her breathing, while the strain on her arm grew. It was going to break. She grunted as she both felt and heard the bones in her arm snap. The foot was taken off her back and she took that opportunity to try and catch her breath. Trying to get up as she had done many times before, she was stopped by a force pushing her onto her back. Looking up, she saw the sole of the shoe before it slammed onto her left shoulder. With a weak attempt, she tried getting the foot off, but it was hard with one broken and possibly dislocated arm, and another that was just about to follow suit. She was reminded of Rockfort Island, only now she was with more broken limbs and no hope of survival.

The sound of another limb breaking filled her ears and resonated in her mind. She clenched her teeth and squinted her eyes shut. The weight left her shoulder and she felt her side being kicked yet again. A rib must have broken, because by the time she rolled to a stop, she was coughing up blood. She heard his footsteps approach for possibly the last time and laughed. It hurt, but she did so anyway.

"You're not the most polite, Wesker." She struggled to pick herself up with broken arms, but only managed to flip herself onto her back. She coughed up more blood before continuing. "I mean, we haven't seen each other for more than a decade, and you don't even ask how I am."

She saw him kneel beside her and felt one arm cradle her head, the other one rested above her heart. She knew that was his next target. It was over. Despite this, she rested her head against his chest.

He chuckled. "Miss Claire Redfield, my Dear Heart, before I take your life, how are you?"

She returned the chuckle. The words finally reaching her thoughts. "Apathetic. So God-damned apathetic."

Her eyes closed as the end came. His hand pierced through her chest, her blood now flowing out of her. Once the deed was done, she felt him hold her until she only felt the nothingness- the feeling of total apathy that came after.

* * *

**Note:**

Wow... And that is the end of that chapter! (With the main character being dead, I highly doubt there will be a continuation of this... XD )  
Regardless, I just want to thank those who took the time to read my last story. Also, if you are reading this, thank you! Because it means that you took the time to read this one! :D  
Sorry for the delay between stories, there would have been more of a delay, but this plot bunny has been gnawing at my arse for quite some time, so I decided to stop studying for my "very" important exams to write this.  
If you guys can be bothered, some feedback would be much appreciated! Especially in the case of OoC-ness... I think I should be fine, it isn't as thought I have Wesker in a pink tutu dancing to "Swan Lake" or something... o.O'  
Thank you in advance! :D


	2. Chapter 2

It felt like she was being born again.

How could she say that, you ask? Well, she had died, and what she was now going through was a reverse of that. That is, if she truly had died.

The first thing she felt was very similar to the last thing, there was the accepting darkness, the apathy and indifference she felt. Soon, her senses started working. She could hear the wind and the sound of something breathing. She could smell her own blood, as well as the dirt that seemed to be everywhere in this world. She could feel something quite... unusual... There was something warm and wet moving on her face. She opened her eyes to inspect just what was going on, only to have strong light hit her seemingly overly sensitive retinas. Closing her eyes, she grunted in pain at what felt like something ripping through her chest, but backwards. The warm object stopped moving around on her face and she heard the breathing move further away. Her grunt must have scared the thing off.

She decided to try and open her eyes once more, to some success. Everything was blurry and white. Blinking a few more times, she managed to clear her vision enough to see that she was out the front of the same church where she bumped into a certain blonde.

She sat up to search for the mysterious wet and warm thing that was running over her face, but she only saw a rather large number of Beasts around her.

… Wait... Around her but they have yet to try and eat her? Something was not right...

One of the Beasts caught her eye, its long tongue and lack of eyes reminiscent of the Lickers from so long ago, though the Beast seemed more grotesque with its arachnid-like body. She had seen quite a few of them after the world ended, they were common and relatively weak, though their speed and numbers made them a huge threat. Between the group, they would consume their prey by ripping it apart, limb by limb with their strong tongues. It was like watching a tug-of-war game, but monstrosities were the players and a still live human was the rope.

Suddenly, that Beast's tongue lashed out onto her face. She felt herself flinch and squirm, but ultimately she froze in shock as its wet and warm tongue continued to clean her face. She twitched. Once the Licker-like Beast was apparently satisfied with its work, it scuttled off, a few of the other Beasts moving after it. The ones that stayed behind just stayed and looked at her with curiosity. One of the Beasts were large with claws, similar to the Hunters she once fled from, but had black slime worms covering it in stead of green scales. Both the swipes from its sharp claws and its thick, tough, poison laden scales were forces to be reckoned with.

It surprised her how no one ever properly examined the Beasts. They were the unseen monsters, akin to the Boogey man in the closet who was never really seen unless from the corner of the eyes, or from in between fingers, but was terrifying regardless. Despite how grotesque all the Beasts seemed in the mind of those still living, they were not nearly as frightening when they no longer have a thirst for your flesh.

… But why didn't they have that thirst for her any more? Her hand flew to her heart, the blood on her shirt was still wet. Did it have something to do with a certain someone? No, she would be in a test tube or whatever if it were. Perhaps everyone was infected with a virus to re-spawn the dead, but due to the horrific dining habits of their predators there probably wasn't enough of anyone left for regeneration to be possible.

Did Wesker ultimately do her a justice, then? Will he still be hostile? Can she still die? What are the side effects of her new life?

What will he do to her if he ever finds her again?

She was far away from the church by night time. She wasn't sure how many days had passed between her death and her birth, though it did not matter; everything seemed to mush together regardless of days. It was not a rebirth, as she is not the same as she once was. She was different. Everything about her felt different. Even her senses reacted differently. The Sun's rays appeared more vivid while sight was still possible for her at night. She could smell the Beasts that roamed the land, she could hear the racing heartbeats of the Living, and she could still feel his hand on her neck, threatening to suffocate her or break her spine, whichever came first.

She hated hearing the screams of the soon to be dead. She could help, but it didn't feel right. They were not her people any more. Was she a Beast now? A monster? Was she required to eat human flesh? She did feel like a nice and juicy burger and apparently human flesh tasted like pork. She wouldn't mind some bacon right now.

… What was she thinking?

On to more depressing matters, she really was all alone in this. There always was that one particular man- the sole reason for her current predicament. Maybe it would be worth approaching him?

… Nah, no way in hell.

Onwards she travelled, until she was sure she had circled the globe and then some. Okay, perhaps she just crossed a state boundary. She definitely missed company, and wouldn't even mind bumping into a certain blonde whom even managed to get his hair perfect in an apocalypse situation.

And speak of the devil!

… Actually, it was not him. It was a mere tree.

With a sigh, she pursued onwards. She felt a strong and sudden force on her back and suddenly she was pursuing onwards a tad faster than she had anticipated. It was almost like she was flying. And that approaching tree was definitely not on her route. All she knew that when she eventually reached the tree, the tree decided to travel onwards with her for a bit, before eventually pinning her onto the ground.

It could have at least bought her dinner first.

Her new faggot (pile of sticks) of a friend was thrown off her and before she could come to her senses, she was pulled up by the scuff of her top and thrown to the ground again. Her head pounded and her lungs felt devoid of oxygen while the smell of her own blood penetrated into her nasal cavities. The only thing she could assume from her assailant was that their hands were bound in leather and seemed to enjoy her throat rather intimately.

Wait... _Leather?_

The will to live shot through her like adrenaline. Or maybe it was just the hormone pumping through her system. Either way, her foot wrenched forwards and managed to kick Sir Leather-Hands in what she assumed was his crown jewels. The grip on her neck loosened, and she took that time to break free and stand up. Her vision finally focused once she was up right and she looked to see a blonde grunt on the floor and holding his crotch with one hand. Taking this chance, she ran. The red head decided not to even say bye to the uprooted tree that she had gotten close with (literally).

It had probably been a month since the last incident. She had yet to eat any food and felt her energy slowly slip away. Had she defied the laws of thermodynamics in her... different state, she would have still been running and she would have run until the Sun ceased to be. But energy needs to come from somewhere, and food was scarce. After a week, she had to slow her pace to a jog. A week after that, she was walking. Now? She stayed still, gently rocking in and out of sleep. She was exhausted, cold, hungry and incredibly lonely. Who knew an apocalyptic world could be this boring?

She wrapped a scavenged blanket around her form tighter as a familiar scent drifted past her nose. Her eyes grew heavier as she heard the footsteps approach.

"Go... Away..." Her voice sounded so different, like it belongs to a stranger. Maybe there was a dwarf in her vocal chords talking for her. Or maybe this was the first time she had heard her own voice in almost 2 months.

A warm chuckle filled her ears just as her eyelids became uncooperative. "Not now that you are subdued, my Dear Heart."

She felt like she was one with the surrounding media. She couldn't feel where her skin ended, and where it touched with the atmosphere around her. She was more than aware of the incredibly soft surface her back rested upon, though. She wanted to just stay and rest for an eternity plus a day. Going to roll over, she felt two things. The first being the mass of cables attached to her body. Air pumped into her face, nutrients pumped into her arms, heat monitors on her chest, oxygen monitors squeezing her finger and lets not forget the periodically inflating s... sphi... sphymonomagrapher doo-hicky that constricted around her right upper arm. Words were failing her, it seemed. Even after "death".

The second thing? Apparently she had caught someone's attention.

She decided now was as good as a time to open her eyes. So she did. It was surprisingly easy; the room was appropriately dimmed and there was no one staring immediately back at her. Now it was time to get up and survey the room. As soon as she had moved her arm to lift herself up, a hand clamped down on her shoulder, keeping her lying down.

"I advise against that, Ms Redfield." Amber cat-like eyes entered her field of vision. She wondered briefly what that man would look like with car ears on.

"Ms Redfield? How old do you think I am, Wesker?"

His eyes now were glowing.

"I mean, Miss Redfield would have been fine." She continued.

"Enough!" His eyes put the sun to shame.

"Though credit where credit is due, at least you didn't call me "Mrs", though to go as far as to stop me from getting up? I'm not that old and frail!"

Like that, she was in the air, one of his hands around her neck. She felt most the cords rip off her and heard a couple of machines fall over, but all that field her vision was the now red eyes. She forced her body to relax and not fight against it.

"I did not mistakenly give you a second chance at life to hear your smart aleck routine."

"You would be the worst father, Wesker. You can't just tell me I was a "mistake". Do you know how many years of therapy I would need?"

"Do you have a death wish?" He sneered and let go, causing her to crumble to the cold hard ground. Claire realised, at that moment, that she must have hit her had rather hard against the tree.

"Not like I can ever leave this fucked up world, anyway. You ensured that you bastard." She got up and plucked the remainder of the cords off herself. It was the first time she noticed herself and what she was wearing- the same tattered clothes she was previously in, minus the jacket. "So why am I here? I'm obviously not a toy for your amusement. I'm not a punching bag, either. I'd be through that wall, if otherwise." She pointed to the wall behind her.

He remained silent. She took this chance to examine his neat and obviously expensive black suit. Not that brand labels mattered any more.

"I mean, why did you put so much effort into keeping me alive with all of this..." She moved her arms to gesture at the upturned medical machinery around her "... all of this crap?"

Still, he remained silent.

"I mean, its not like you would do this to anyone you see, would you?"

Like before, he remained silent.

"And what was with the whole 'driving me through a tree' thing, huh?"

… You guessed it.

"These aren't rhetorical questions, ya know!"

"You have seen the current state the world is in, correct?" His voice was low. "What you saw, that is a common occurrence across the whole planet. There is no solace, no Eden for the human race."

"So what, no more people exist? I saw some before the whole 'driving me through a tree' thing."

"How were they? Did you stop and say hi? Invite them for dinner?"

"They were... They were being eaten..."

"And pray tell why the good Samaritan, former Terra-Save employee, Miss Claire Redfield, did not stop and help out the humans against the 'forces of bioterrorism'?"

"... I... It didn't..." She muttered as her face felt it was forced in gasoline and set alight.

"Hmm? Did no one teach you not to mumble your words?"

"It didn't feel like the right thing to do, okay?" She grew tense, but forced herself to take a calming breath. "I couldn't help out, I'm no longer on that team. I'm a monster now. A monster like you!"

Wesker was clapping. A slow and condescending clap. "Bravo, Miss Redfield. Bravo."

"Cut the bullshit, why am I here?"

"You said it yourself, though I am not surprised that you remain oblivious to your own words. Life must be hard with such a thick head."

_That's what she said._  
Maybe she did have a death wish. She faced him, he was not reacting. She quickly gave thanks to all the deities for the blonde's lack of telepathic powers.

"Well then, tell me, since I am such an invalid. Make sure to use small words or I might get lost in your patronising words."

An amused smile. "We are both 'monsters' now, no?"

"We are in this together." She interrupted, slow and drearily.

"Correct."

There was some silence as she absorbed the information. She doubted he would let her go, and there wasn't much on the surface to do, either. How she itched to have someone to talk to, though she had found the most masochistic method of scratching that metaphorical itch.

She went to open her mouth, but paused. He looked at her and at that moment, she understood. That's all they were now, two peas in a pod.

"So... Now what?"

* * *

And that concludes part 2 of the "How to procrastinate" saga!  
As for why Wesker put Claire through a tree... He was bored and went around on his routine trip to smash some thing's head in. That something just happened to be a disgrunted Claire.

Again, please review! I like to hear feedback, especially when it is how to better improve my stories!

P.S- I had this finished like... 2 weeks ago. Got it beta'd like... twice (sorry Gelar! I keep bugging you XD) and went through it a gazillion more times. Now, exam study time, I think... XD )


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